CSI: A Special Case
by 27dayz
Summary: While processing a scene, the CSIs discover an entirely new case, a case that becomes more personal than any of them could ever have dreamed.
1. A Not So Routine Crime Scene

AN: Hi! I'm back. Updates should be quite frequent on this and I hope you guys enjoy this. R&R.

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. If I did, there would be massive changes.

Summary: While processing a scene, the CSIs discover an entirely new case, a case that becomes more personal than any of them could ever have dreamed.

Chapter 1: 

A Not So Routine Crime Scene

"That's gotta be a record," Jim Brass quipped, "Five minutes! Usually in takes you guys a lot longer than that to respond to a crime scene."

"Well, when I live a few blocks away from the scene, it doesn't take long to drive over," Gil Grissom replied as he crossed the yellow crime tape sectioning off half of the deserted parking lot. In the middle of the tape, a white male was lying on his back with eight stab wounds on his chest. Grissom and Brass surveyed the sight unflinchingly.

"Vic's name is Kendal Gates, AKA Kenny G. Coroner's en route," Brass informed Grissom, "Are you going to get another guy out here or is it just you and me?"

"I'll call Catherine. There's a lot of blood spatter out here," Grissom replied, flipping his cell phone on and pressing the speed dial for Catherine's number. Catherine Willows was the crime lab's top blood spatter analyst as well as an accomplished CSI. Of all the members of Grissom's nightshift team, Catherine was most qualified for this case. Grissom waited patiently for her to pick up.

"Willows."

"I need you on a 419 with me," he said, disregarding formalities as had become custom for the two over the years. He gave her the address.

"That's by your place," she replied, immediately recognizing how close the scene was to his home.

"Yeah," he sighed, "So much for it being a safe neighbourhood."

"Alright. See you there," Catherine said, clicking the phone off. Grissom replaced the phone in his pocket and opened his metal kit. He snapped on a pair of latex gloves, grabbed his camera, and then slowly approached the body. Knowing that he was not to touch the body until the coroner released it, he knelt closer so he could observe it, snapping multiple shots from many different angles.

"From the looks of it, he was trying to run from his attacker," Grissom informed Brass in between photos, "He has blood on his shoes. It might be his own," he continued, withdrawing his mini-light and shinning it on several bloody sneaker impressions.

"Well, if someone was chasing you with a knife, wouldn't you?" Brass asked.

"It's animal nature to run when being pursued," Grissom replied. Brass just shook his head as went to talk to the crowd of witnesses beginning to form. Grissom continued to document the scene for a while, slowly moving towards the alley, following the bloody footprints.

"I can see why you wanted me out here," a familiar voice called to him, "That's a lot of blood."

"All most too much," Grissom replied, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Maybe the Vic got a couple of hits in," Catherine suggested, joining him at the entrance to the alley.

"That's quite a blood pool, though," Grissom pointed out, gesturing to the shiny red pool next to the dumpster.

"We'll have to tell Brass to check out the hospitals for a stabbing injury," she suggested, moving closer to inspect what looked to be spatter on the edge of the dumpster.

"No, no, Man! That's my brother!" Grissom and Catherine suddenly heard a young man in his twenties cry out.

"Easy, there, Mr. Gates," Brass tried to consol the weeping brother of Kendal Gates.

"Don't you think I don't know who did this!" the man cried.

"Alright, sir, we'll just go down to the station and you can tell us," Brass tried.

"It was them!" the man screamed, pointing to a group of men, all wearing black, "I'll Fucking KILL them!" he yelled out, running forward breaking away from Brass and pulling a gun on the gang at the other end of the tape. Several people screamed and ducked.

As soon as he heard the first shot, Grissom's instincts kicked in. He pinned Catherine against the dumpster, shielding her from any stray bullets. They waited like this as shots between the gangs and the police rang through the night. Finally, there was silence.

"What the Hell was that?" Catherine breathed, looking over Grissom's shoulder to where she had a perfect view of the chaos that had just enveloped their crime scene. Brass and several uniforms had managed to subdue the shooters, but there were at least three more people on the ground, Kendal Gate's brother included.

"Chaos," Grissom answered shakily, but his voice was drowned out by the most unusual sound that could possibly be heard at a crime scene like this: a baby's wail.

"What the-" Catherine started, locking eyes with Grissom as they realized that the cries were coming from within the dumpster. They broke away from each other and moved around to open it, careful to avoid the blood pools. Grissom pushed the metal lid up and the sight of a small boy amidst the waste met him and Catherine.

"Oh my God," Catherine breathed.

"Hold this," Grissom requested, gesturing to the lid. Catherine did and watched as he lifted himself up, over the ledge, and onto the piles of trash. He picked up the sobbing child with a stunned look on his face. The boy immediately quieted upon being held. He looked no older than four. He looked dazed at Gil and Catherine as they stared incredulously at him.

"I hope you two aren't fighting again. Tell me she didn't throw you in the dumpster, Gil," Brass quipped from behind them, not seeing the small child in Grissom's arms. Gil and Catherine had a rather rocky friendship as of late. It wasn't uncommon for them to completely ignore each other, or worse, get into heated arguments from anything from casework to lab integrity.

Catherine and Grissom both turned to look at the detective, giving Brass a full view of the child in Grissom's arms. They looked like deer in headlights.

"I leave you two alone for five minutes and you have a kid?" Brass gaped at them incredulously.

TBC


	2. Dylan Woods

AN: Hey. I would have updated sooner, but I was away from a computer all weekend. R&R and enjoy. Thank you to everyone who reviewed.

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. If I did, there would be massive changes.

Summary: While processing a scene, the CSIs discover an entirely new case, a case that becomes more personal than any of them could ever have dreamed.

Chapter 2: 

Dylan Woods 

With the little boy securely in Grissom's arms, he, Catherine, and Brass navigated their way to Catherine's Denali, ensuring that the child's attention was attracted away from the bodies on the pavement. Catherine opened the back door so that Grissom could gently place the boy inside.

"No!" the child cried out and clung to Grissom tighter when he was about to be set into the back seat.

"He's got quite the grip," Grissom commented, resuming a standing position to ease the little boy's hold on his neck.

"It's okay, Sweetie," Catherine cooed, gently rubbing the child's back in slow circles, as she had done with her own daughter when Lindsey was small and upset. This had the same calming effect on the boy as it had on Lindsey. He stopped fussing and buried his face in Grissom's arms.

"He likes you, Gil," Brass commented as he turned to walk away for a few minutes. This was one of the first times Brass had ever seen a small child with the normally reticent man in front of them.

"He probably likes Catherine more," Grissom hinted. Catherine rolled her eyes.

"Is that your not-so-subtle way of telling me I have to watch him?" she asked.

"Please?" he begged, "This is a huge crime scene. I'm calling the others in, but one of us needs to be with the kid and take him to the hospital. You are a great CSI, but you are an even better mother. You know how to handle kids, I don't," he stated. She raised her eyebrows.

"Is that your way of buttering me up?" she questioned, placing a hand on her hip. Grissom gulped. If he said the wrong thing, it would start an argument. He wasn't the best at people skills, so he figured he could say just about anything and she'd still get mad at him.

"Depends," he countered on a stroke of genius, "Is it working?" he asked. She shook her head and turned to talk to the little boy who had a couple fingers in his mouth by this point.

"Hey, there, Kido. I'm Catherine. What's your name?" she asked, changing her tone so it sounded more pleasant to the child.

"Dylan," he replied in a very quiet voice, taking his fingers from his mouth and placing his small hand on Gil's sleeve.

"That's an awesome name," Catherine complimented, "Do you know your last name?" she then asked.

"Dylan Woods," he replied, then he turned to look at Grissom, "What about you?" he asked, demonstrating his speaking skills.

"Me? My name is Gil," Grissom replied. Dylan smiled a shy smile at the recognition.

"Like 'Finding Nemo'," he said, still smiling. The look of confusion on Grissom's face was priceless.

"It's a Disney movie about fish," Catherine explained, giggling as Grissom's face contorted into a look of half-understanding, half-confusion.

"I like that movie," Dylan piped up.

"Me too," Catherine replied, "How old are you, Dylan?" she asked.

"Four," he answered, holding up four fingers.

"Well, you're a very smart little guy," Catherine commented. Dylan merely smiled his shy smile and buried his head back into Grissom's shoulder.

"You know, I bet Catherine would like to take you for a ride to the hospital," Gil hinted, shifting the small boy in his arms.

"No!" Dylan replied, shaking his head and wrapping his little arms around Grissom's neck.

"Way to go, Gil," Catherine sighed.

"I've taken the liberty of calling in the rest of your team," Jim informed them as he approached. Dylan's brow furrowed as he looked at the newcomer. He poked Grissom's cheek to get his attention.

"Who's that?" he asked softly.

"Oh, uh…Dylan, this is mine and Catherine's friend Jim. Jim, meet Dylan Woods, who has almost strangled me twice, now," Grissom muttered the last part. Brass laughed.

"It's nice to meet you, Dylan. How's it going?" Brass asked.

"Good," Dylan replied softly and quietly.

"He's a bit shy. We're trying to separate him from Gil so I can take him to the hospital to be checked over. Then I'm going to take him by the lab to get his prints and DNA and wait for social services," Catherine explained.

"Good luck. I've never seen a kid so taken with Gil," Brass commented.

"He was alright with Lindsey. She loved going to visit him and his bugs," Catherine told him.

"Hi! Guys, HE is standing right here!" Grissom called to gain their attention.

"I've got an idea," Brass said, looking at Dylan, "Dylan, do you know what a policeman is?" he asked. Dylan nodded.

"Well, I'm like a policeman," Brass continued, "I think if you help me out, you can be a policeman, too."

Dylan looked at Gil, who assured him, "It's okay."

"All you have to do is tell me where your mommy and daddy are," Brass told him, "Can you do that?"

Dylan hesitated before responding, "Mommy said to be quiet."

"What else did she say, Dylan?" Gil asked this time, hoping his input would encourage him.

"I'd get a surprise for quiet," he said, then he looked as though he was processing something, "Do I get it?" he asked, "I wasn't quiet," he seemed worried.

"Sure, thing, Dylan," Brass responded, unclipping his badge, "Here you go. You know what this does?" he asked as the child took it.

"What?" Dylan asked.

"You can do anything with this. With this, you can tell people what to do. You don't need to be scared of anybody while you have this badge," Brass explained. Dylan examined it.

"Really?" he asked.

"Sure," Brass encouraged, "Test it out. Tell Cath to do something."

"Okay. Touch your nose," Dylan ordered. Catherine obediently put a finger to the tip of her nose. Dylan giggled, elated that he had a new toy.

"You're a pro," Brass complemented, "Now, what about your daddy? Where's he?" Dylan shrugged in response.

"I don't got a daddy," he murmured. The three adults just glanced at each other. Catherine's heart immediately went to the little boy. Her daughter was fatherless as well. Grissom understood what it was like to grow up without a father. He lost his when he was just nine-years-old. Brass was wondering just what kind of home this little guy came from.

"Is that the kid?" the low baritone of Warrick Brown could be heard from across the lot as he crossed over to them. Sara Sidle, Nick Stokes, and Greg Sanders followed him to where all four were standing in front of their supervisors, the detective, and Dylan.

"His name's Dylan," Catherine introduced, gesturing to the little boy, who had once again hid his face in Grissom's shoulder.

"He's a bit shy," Grissom explained overtop Dylan's head.

"And VERY attached to Grissom. We're in the process of un-sticking them," Catherine emphasized. Brass crinkled his brow in thought.

"Wait a minute," he said slowly, "I thought Dylan had the badge. The badge means he doesn't need to be scared of anybody," he remembered. The four newcomers looked at him as if he had lost it.

"Hey, that's right," Catherine joined, "Dylan, you don't need to be scared, remember? You have the magic badge, don't you?" she asked. He showed her Jim's badge in his small hand and looked up.

"Come on, Dylan," Gil whispered, "Tell that guy to run around the car," he encouraged, pointing to Greg.

"Run around car," Dylan ordered quietly. Greg looked confused.

"Just do it," Grissom ordered. Greg raised his eyebrows and did a lap around the car.

"Run around the car?" Catherine questioned.

"He needs to burn off that energy," Grissom defended himself.

"Anything else?" Greg asked, unimpressed, as he came to a stop before them. Dylan, however, grinned.

"It works!" he exclaimed.

"Told you," Brass quipped.

"So Grissom's babysitting?" Nick asked.

"I am, but as I said, we need to pry Dylan away from Gil," Catherine corrected. Grissom had an idea.

"So Dylan, why don't you go with Catherine and test out your new toy somewhere else?" he asked. He hoped that Dylan would not freak out again. Thankfully, Dylan nodded.

"Alright!" Catherine exclaimed, "Come here, buddy. Let's go have some fun," she said, holding her arms out so she could hold Dylan. He released Grissom's neck and latched onto Catherine.

"I'm free," Grissom stated, a little happy. He was very uncomfortable around kids.

"Don't sound so enthused," Brass chided, "I'm going to ride with Catherine and the kid to the hospital. I've already called Sofia to come out."

"Perfect. Thanks," Grissom said.

"Well, we'll let you get to work," Catherine told the rest. Dylan waved.

"Bye-bye, Gil," he said.

"See you later, Dylan," Grissom waved as well.

"So, are we ever gonna start work?" Greg whined. Grissom rolled his eyes. Greg was his usual impatient, energetic self.

"Warrick, you take Kendal Gates. Greg can help Nick with the other three bodies. Me and Sara will process the dumpster," Grissom ordered.

"Got it, Boss," Nick affirmed as he, Greg, and Warrick walked to their bodies.

"Quite the case," Sara commented as she stood with Grissom.

"We'll see if it's just one," Grissom sighed, "Dylan's case might not even be related to the other homicides."

TBC


	3. New Friends

AN: Enjoy this new chapter. I think some people will get a kick out of this. Thanks for the reviews. I loved reading them. Now enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. If I did, there would be massive changes.

Summary: While processing a scene, the CSIs discover an entirely new case, a case that becomes more personal than any of them could ever have dreamed.

Chapter 3: 

New Friends

"So what's your take on this whole thing?" Brass asked as he watched Catherine unbuckle Dylan from the built-in car seat in her Denali.

"I don't know," she sighed, lifting Dylan out of the vehicle and shutting the door, "I don't want to even think that someone could put their child in a dumpster."

"I know what you mean," Brass agreed, opening the hospital door for her. They fell into step as they approached the reception desk.

"Hello. I'm Catherine Willows and this is Detective Jim Brass. We called ahead. We found a child at a crime scene and we want to make sure he's okay," Catherine explained, taking charge. The receptionist looked up at her.

"I'll call a doctor for you. Just take a seat," she requested.

"Thanks," Brass said, proceeding to follow Catherine to the waiting area. She set Dylan on the floor next to some toys and she took a chair. She noticed how Dylan moved some toy bricks closer to her chair. Brass took the one beside her.

"He's going to need new clothes," she requested after a moment, "Do you mind picking him up something?" she asked.

"Sure. I don't know what you expect to find. The garbage would have contaminated any usable evidence," Brass commented. She just looked at him. Typical male response.

"I know that," she said dryly, "But it wouldn't hurt to get him something that doesn't stink."

"Right. I'm on it," he said, blushing, "It was my ex that did all that stuff when Ellie was little," he explained, looking forlorn. Catherine smiled sympathetically at him. It must have been hard for him to talk about Ellie. The two did not have the best relationship.

"Hey, don't worry about it," she assured him, "Do you think Gil would have thought about that?"

Brass chuckled, "Well, he assigned the right person to look after the little guy," he agreed, "He sure took to Gil, though."

"I know. It's strange, considering that Gil is…well…Gil," she hesitated, trying to find the right word to describe her friend, and failing.

"Detective Brass. Ms. Willows," a tall doctor called as he walked towards them, "I'm Dr. Stenton," he greeted, shaking their hands.

"Nice to meet you, Dr. Stenton," Catherine said politely.

"Likewise. Now I understand you have an unusual case for me?" the doctor asked. They both looked to Dylan.

---------------------------

"What a night," Warrick sighed as he, Nick, and Greg loaded their evidence into the back of the vehicle.

"No kidding," Nick agreed, "A stabbing, a shootout, and a child case."

"That's gotta be one twisted perp to dump a three-year-old in a dumpster," Greg commented.

"At least you don't hold a grudge," Nick chuckled, referring to Dylan ordering Greg to run around the car.

"Ah, kids that age are fun," Greg brushed off, "My cousin has two boys, three and four. You should see the trouble I get them into," he sighed affectionately.

"They're probably better behaved than you," Warrick inserted, loading the last of the evidence. He paused and sighed, "You know what I think? I think that anyone who endangers a kid should be thrown into a dumpster."

"Agreed, man. Can you imagine what Griss and Cath'll do when they catch the perp?" Nick asked, raising his eyebrows, "I wouldn't want to be that suspect."

"Yeah. I think this case is even personal for him now," Greg agreed, looking over to where Grissom and Sara were loading evidence into his Denali.

--------

"Physically, he seems absolutely fine," Dr. Stenton announced as he finished his exam on Dylan, "Not even a scratch."

Catherine let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, "Yeah, he was just found in a dumpster."

"It's your job to find out if he was ever neglected or what not, but as far as I can tell, he wasn't abused. I'm just concerned what being placed in garbage will do to his development and psyche," Dr. Stenton explained.

"Well, when we pulled him out of there, he was holding onto my colleague extremely tight," Catherine told him, "He's really shy."

"Small children tend to behave in a very shy manner when they're away from their parents," Dr. Stenton said thoughtfully. Suddenly Dylan spoke up from his perch on the examination table between the two adults.

"I wanna go see Gil."

"That's where we're going as soon as Jim gets back," Catherine told him gently.

"Who's Gil?" the doctor asked. Catherine chuckled.

"My colleague," she answered.

"It's strange that he remembers a stranger like that," Dr. Stenton observed. Catherine smiled wryly.

"I think he knows the name from 'Finding Nemo'," she explained. The doctor laughed.

"My kid's obsessed with that movie," he explained. Then there was a knock on the door.

"Hope I'm not interrupting," Brass called as he walked into the room.

"Not at all, Detective Brass," Stenton shrugged, "We just finished."

"Did you get Dylan some clothes?" Catherine asked. Brass grinned.

"You'll never guess what I found," he said.

"What?" she asked. Brass just held up a 'Finding Nemo' outfit in response.

--------------

Grissom and Sara were loading their evidence into his truck. The pair worked silently. That was the way Grissom was, however. He never said a word until he was good and ready. Sara was a feminine version of Grissom. She was as much absorbed in her work as he was.

"So what are you thinking?" she asked, finally breaking that uneasy silence.

"Well, for now, we'll work the cases separately until there's something linking them together. Nick, Greg, and Warrick will work the stabbing and you, Catherine, and I will work Dylan's case," Grissom replied, all business.

"Searching for his parents is going to be like searching for a needle in a haystack," she sighed.

"Yeah," he agreed, "But we've got to try," he said, slamming the hatch down and walking to the driver's side. No matter how uncomfortable he was around kids, he knew that he had to try for Dylan. Ever since the child had first latched onto Grissom's neck, Grissom felt like he had to do his best to solve the case for that little boy.

----------------

"Please, Dylan?" Catherine begged. The little boy shook his head, his lips tightly sealed and his hands tightly clenched.

"Are you sure you'll even get anything out of getting his fingerprints and DNA?" Mandy the fingerprint tech asked as she and Wendy waited semi-patiently for Catherine to give them their samples.

"Why not? Some parents and preschools have a fingerprinting initiative in case something happens. Lindsey had it done when she was three," Catherine explained, "And sometimes you're just unfortunate enough to share DNA with less than perfect people," she finished. She knew that first-hand. Her father, Sam Braun, killed a showgirl. He was let off because Catherine had compromised the case, not on purpose, just by working on it. And really, knowing Sam wasn't that unfortunate after all. Before he died, he was trying to patch things up with her and make everything right.

"Well, good luck getting the samples," Wendy sighed, shifting her weight to one foot.

"Hey!" an obnoxious voice exclaimed, "There's my personal trainer!" Greg stuck his spiky head into the DNA lab.

"What do you know about getting kids to cooperate?" Catherine asked dryly.

"Beats me. You're the mom," Greg shrugged as he continued on his way down the hall.

"Yeah. It's too bad none of my methods work on Dylan or Lindsey anymore," she muttered. She was beginning to see similarities between the stubborn three-year-old boy and her rebellious fifteen-year-old daughter.

"Hey, how's he doing?" a much calmer voice asked from the doorway. Catherine looked over and saw Grissom and Sara standing at the doorway.

"Hi Gil!" Dylan chirped from his seat on the desk.

"Hey there, Dylan," Grissom set down the box he was carrying and walked over to the little boy. Dylan was grinning. Suddenly Catherine had an idea.

"Gil, open your mouth," she ordered. He stared at her.

"What?" he asked, perplexed.

"Do I need to get a warrant?" she asked, unamused. He shrugged and opened his mouth. She uncapped a swab and stuck it in his mouth.

"Hey!" he protested when she took it out of his mouth. She ignored him.

"See, Dylan?" she said, turning to the little boy, "Gil wasn't afraid to let me put a q-tip in his mouth. Can you be a big boy and open your mouth nice and wide?" she asked. Dylan opened his mouth in response.

"Ah. I remember that trick," Sara nodded understandingly, "My mom used that on me. She'd get my older brother to do something so I'd copy him. It stopped working when I was seven," she explained as Catherine capped the swab and handed it to Wendy.

"It works every time," Catherine replied, "Alright, Gil, hand," she ordered, holding out a hand for his and a pad of ink in the other.

"Catherine-" he started to whine.

"Gil, give me your hand," she demanded, grabbing his hand and rolling it into the pad of ink, then slamming it on a piece of paper.

"At least I was gentle when you gave me your hand," he muttered mutinously. Sara started and looked between the two. Grissom was pouting adorably. Catherine just shook her head.

"At least I didn't put a dead woman's hand over yours, Gil," she replied flatly, remembering that icky feeling she got when he had conned her into putting a deceased drowning victim's skin over her own for the sake of prints.

"Me do!" Dylan called, holding a tiny hand out for Catherine to fingerprint.

"Easier than I thought," Mandy shrugged as she took the paper with Dylan's prints back to her lab.

"So should we get to work?" Sara asked, still looking in between Grissom and Catherine. Catherine smiled, knowing the perfect way to get Gil back for forcing her to baby-sit.

"Sure," she agreed, "Sara, take your pick: Dumpster evidence, baby, or baby's clothes?" she asked.

"I'll take my evidence," Sara replied a little coolly, placing some samples on the desk for Wendy.

"Well, I've got the baby's clothes," Catherine continued, "So you get the baby," she said, passing Dylan to Grissom, whose eyes got very big as he held the little boy.

"WHAT?!"

"It's your turn."

"Cath-"

"I've got to process evidence, Gil," Catherine replied sweetly, on her way out, "Oh, and make sure you wash his hands," she added in an afterthought. Then she was gone. Sara had to admit, she had to admire the older woman's way of getting back at Grissom.

"Have fun," Sara said, smirking as she left him standing in the DNA lab.

Grissom blinked for several moments before looking down at the little boy in his arms.

"What just happened?" he asked. Dylan merely shrugged in response.

TBC


	4. A Whole New Level

AN: Enjoy this new chapter. Now It's getting a little darker. You'll have to wait a week or so for a new chapter cuz I have finals coming up that I need to study for. R&R so I have something to look forward to afterwards.

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. If I did, there would be massive changes.

Summary: While processing a scene, the CSIs discover an entirely new case, a case that becomes more personal than any of them could ever have dreamed.

Chapter 4:

A Whole New Level

"I thought that this was Grissom's case?" Dr. Albert Robins said as Nick and Warrick entered the morgue.

"We got passed the case when Catherine passed the kid off to him," Warrick answered.

"How'd she manage that?" Doc Robbins asked with an amused smile on his face.

"You know Catherine. She's got some skills," Nick said fondly.

"No doubt about that," Doc Robbins agreed.

"What can you tell us about Kendal Gates?" Warrick asked, approaching the body. Nick and Doc Robbins followed in suit.

"Eight stab wounds to the chest. One would have sufficed," Doc Robbins explained, pointing to the eight wounds on the victim's chest, "Two pierced the heart, while two hit the left lung and one got the right. One clipped the aorta and another damaged the pulmonary artery. The other stab wound penetrated the skin, but it hit a rib."

"So the perp is excessively violent," Nick deduced, "Should be interesting."

"Stabbings are usually personal," Warrick added.

"According to these bruises patterns and his defensive wounds, it looks as if the victim fought back," Doc Robbins continued, activating the UV ray so that they could see the fresh bruises.

"That almost looks like a handprint," Nick said, pointing to a particular marking on Gates's chest.

"Doc, do you think that you can get a hand size from that?" Warrick asked.

"Definitely," Doc Robbins replied, "I'll get David to measure it out. There's not much more I can tell you about Mr. Gates. I have to prep for another autopsy," Doc Robbins explained, "Car accident."

"Thanks, Doc," Nick and Warrick echoed as they left the morgue.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So, what am I supposed to do to amuse you?" Grissom asked the little boy. Dylan just looked even more perplexed.

"I see you're as confused as I am," he mumbled, "I will get Catherine back for this," he vowed, looking around his office as he turned on his swivel chair with Dylan sitting contently on his lap

"Wee!" Dylan giggled as he felt the chair move. Grissom smiled slightly.

"What? You like that?" he asked, turning the chair a bit more with his feet.

"Yeah!" Dylan chirped. Grissom had to chuckle at the grin on the little boy's face.

"So, what kind of shirt did Catherine and Jim get you?" Gil asked, just noticing the 'Finding Nemo' label on the tag. If nothing else, he'd learn about kid's movies.

"'Finding Nemo'," Dylan said, pointing to his shirt, "That's Nemo," he said, pointing to a small clownfish on the front.

"Who's Gil?" Grissom asked, "Is that him?" he asked pointing to a shark. Dylan laughed and shook his head.

"No, that's Bruce," Dylan corrected Grissom, who had to appreciate the humour in naming a shark Bruce, "This is Gil," he continued, pointing to a white and black fish.

"He looks neat," Grissom said.

"He's really grumpy," Dylan said seriously. Grissom was thankful Catherine was not here to play off of that.

"Am I grumpy?" he asked. Dylan shook his head.

"No. You're neat," he replied, using a new word. Grissom smiled.

"Do you want to see something neat?" he asked. Dylan nodded. Gil reached back and set a glass tank on the desk. Inside was a large brown tarantula.

"What's that?" Dylan asked in awe.

"He's a tarantula," Grissom responded, "Can you say that?"

"T-ta-ranla," Dylan tried.

"Close enough. He's a spider. His name is Parker," Grissom explained. Dylan crinkled his brow in thought.

"Mommy doesn't like spiders," he said.

"Lots of people don't," Grissom replied.

"I like him," Dylan said, "He's in a cage."

"Well, he likes you, too. Why don't we let him go back to sleep so I can do paperwork and you can draw a picture of Nemo and Gil?" Grissom suggested. Dylan nodded. Grissom set the tarantula cage back and got a piece of paper and a bunch of markers for Dylan.

An hour later, Dylan looked up at Gil who was writing crazy things called words on a piece of paper.

"I'm hungry," he piped up, his growling tummy reinforcing his point. Grissom looked down at him.

"Uh…okay…let's pay Catherine a visit," he suggested, abandoning the paperwork and carrying Dylan through the bustling halls to the layout room where Catherine and Sara were going over evidence.

"Okay. It's your turn," Grissom called from the doorway.

"I'm in the middle of something, here," Catherine replied, a little annoyed.

"But he's hungry," Gil complained.

"Well, feed him," Catherine shot back.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"There should be some Mac 'n Cheese in the break room," she suggested, "Make sure he doesn't choke."

"I know," Grissom sighed, exiting with Dylan.

"I can't believe how child-phobic he is," Sara laughed. Catherine just smiled.

"He was the same way with Lindsey at first, but they eventually became great pals. He's not used to little kids. It doesn't help that Dylan isn't as vocal as Lindsey was either," she explained, taking a swab of a stain on Dylan's T-shirt that smelled like alcohol.

"You seem to know a lot about him," Sara observed, jealous of the information Catherine knew about Grissom that she didn't. She and Grissom were supposed to be together. Catherine shouldn't know any of this.

"Of course. I've only been his best friend for 20+ years," Catherine shrugged.

"Hey, I think we got something," Warrick called from the doorway with Nick and Greg on either side. Greg waved at Sara, who gave him a half-hearted one back.

"What is it?" Catherine asked.

"Kendal Gates's autopsy showed some interesting bruises, including a hand-shaped bruise that is 22 cm from pinkie to thumb," Nick informed them.

"Big guy," Sara commented.

"I can do one better," Greg announced.

"We're all ears, Greg," Sara encouraged.

"Well, I was just at DNA getting our samples analyzed from Kenny G. He stepped in the blood of a female who has seven alleles in common with little Dylan Woods," Greg explained, "Wendy also just tested the blood from the dumpster pool. It's the same female."

"So Dylan's mother is either wounded or dead," Catherine sighed.

"Hey, you guys," Mandy called from the doorway, "I actually got a hit on Dylan's prints. He's from Phoenix."

"He's a long way from home," Nick commented.

"They were taken at Phoenix P.D by his mother, Vanessa Woods, who is a CSI in Phoenix. I called down there to confirm," Mandy continued.

"She's one of our own?" Sara asked incredulously.

"Yeah. And she's been stabbed," Warrick said darkly.

-----------------

"How's the food?" Grissom sighed as he held a forkful of Macaroni for Dylan to bite. The little boy chewed and swallowed his mouthful of food.

"Good," Dylan replied.

"I thought Catherine had the kid," Brass said from the doorway.

"So did I," Grissom deadpanned. Brass chuckled. He didn't need to be a CSI to figure out what had happened.

"Hi," Dylan greeted.

"Hi, there, pal. How's the badge working out?" Brass asked.

"Good," Dylan grinned.

"Ah, Jim. Just the guy I need to see," Catherine sighed as she walked into the room, followed by Sara, Greg, Nick, and Warrick. Both men could sense something was amiss. Cheer was absent from her tone.

"What's up?" Brass asked as he and Grissom rose and walked over to the small group.

"Do you have contacts in Phoenix?" Catherine asked.

"Some. Why?" Brass asked, confused.

"Dylan's mother is a CSI from Phoenix. Her name is Vanessa Woods," Warrick explained. Grissom squinted in realization. He recognized the name.

"So why the sombre attitude?" Brass asked.

"Because the blood that Kenny G stepped in is female with seven markers in common with Dylan," Nick dropped the bomb. Brass and Grissom inhaled sharply. This case had just been brought to a whole new level.

TBC


	5. Dylan's Story

AN: I updated sooner than I had anticipated. Got bored with studying.

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. If I did, there would be massive changes.

Summary: While processing a scene, the CSIs discover an entirely new case, a case that becomes more personal than any of them could ever have dreamed.

Chapter 5: 

Dylan's Story

"Phoenix P.D, how may I help you?" the female secretary asked.

"My name is Detective Jim Brass from Las Vegas, Nevada. I'd like to speak with George Klein, the head of the CSI division," Brass said into the phone.

"Just one moment please," the secretary told him. Brass waited patiently for Klein to pick up the phone. Finally there was a click.

"What can I do for you, Detective Brass?" a gruff voice on the other end asked, skipping all formalities.

"I'm calling to enquire about one of your CSIs. Vanessa Woods works for you, correct?" Brass asked, drumming his desk with a pen. There was a pause.

"Yes, she does," Klein answered, sounding more concerned, "She's on vacation in Vegas…" he paused, "Is she alright?" he asked.

"We don't know," Brass answered.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Klein asked dangerously.

"What was her business in Vegas?" Brass asked, completely skipping over Klein's question.

"I'm not answering a damn thing until you tell me what's going on, Detective Brass," Klein countered with all the bluntness of a dull axe. Brass sighed.

"Her blood was found at a crime scene-" he started.

"What?" Klein interrupted, "Is she alright? What about Dylan?" he asked worriedly.

"Her son is alright. He was found in a dumpster next to his mother's blood. He's in protective custody now," Brass responded.

"Oh my God," Klein breathed. He sounded like he had just collapsed in his chair.

"Mr. Klein, is Ms. Woods the type of person to put her son in a dumpster?" Brass asked.

"What are you implying?" Klein demanded, "She's a good mother, damn it! She'd never, ever do something like that!"

"Easy there, Mr. Klein. It's just one of those questions I have to ask," Brass said calmly, "I'm also going to need your cooperation. The more we know about the victim, the better chance we can find her."

"I…Oh, alright," Klein agreed, sounding weary.

"Thank you, sir," Brass said politely, "What was her business in Vegas?"

"She was going to pay Dylan's father a visit," Klein sighed.

"His father is in Vegas?" Brass asked.

"Yeah. Yeah. I just found out, too. When she got pregnant, she didn't tell anybody who the father was. Knowing her taste in men, I assumed the father was one of those dangerous, live-fast, die-young guys," Brass could hear the distaste in the man's voice.

"Was he?" Brass asked.

"She didn't talk about him much, but she claimed he was different than the usual guys she dated. It was always just her and Dylan," Klein told him.

"Was she able to financially support the two of them?" Brass asked.

"Yes. When her father died, she got a big inheritance, being the only child," Klein answered. Brass had another question.

"So why, after four years of no contact with Dylan's father, did Ms. Woods come to speak with him?"

"She-" Klein's voice shook slightly, "She was diagnosed with breast cancer about a week ago. She was scheduled to start treatment next week. I guess she thought if the worst should happen, she should at least tell the father about Dylan."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Do you know anything that might help find the father?" Brass asked hopefully, not just because the man was going to be responsible for little Dylan, but because this man was a prime suspect.

"You should ask one of my other CSIs, Colleen Bow. Colleen and Van are inseparable," Klein said after a moment's thought, "She's out in the field right now, but I can get her to call you, Detective Brass," he promised.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Klein," Brass responded, "I'll keep you posted."

"Thank you," and then both men hung up.

---------------

"Alright, Dylan, what were you and your mommy doing before you played the quiet game?" Catherine asked, kneeling in front of the little boy.

"Running," he answered, snuggling closer to Grissom, who sat beside him on the couch.

"Why were you running?" Warrick asked. The whole team was assembled in the break room, listening to Dylan's version, hoping to find some sort of clue in his story.

"'Cause Mommy broked the car," Dylan said, fiddling with Jim's Badge in his hands.

"Where did she break it?" Sara questioned.

"By the train tracks," Dylan answered.

"There's a set of railroad tracks about two blocks from the parking lot," Grissom confirmed.

"There was a bang!" Dylan added empathetically.

"Did you see another car?" Catherine asked.

"It was green," Dylan answered, "I like green."

"Was it green like Warrick's shirt or was it green like Greg's shirt?" Nick asked, gesturing between the two men. Warrick's shirt was a dark green polo shirt while Greg's was a bright green T with yellow writing.

"Like his," Dylan pointed to Greg, who grinned and moved to sit on Dylan's other side.

"Was it a truck?" he asked, pulling out a small blue pick-up truck from his pocket, "or a car?" he pulled out a black hot-wheels car with orange flames, "Or a van?" he revealed a small, hippie-like van.

"That one!" Dylan exclaimed pointing to the truck. Greg handed it to him.

"Well, then, that's yours for helping us out," he told the little boy, who grinned, delighted.

"Were did you get that?" Sara asked.

"I have a little collection in my locker," Greg shrugged. Catherine smirked.

"Boys and their cars," she sighed. Dylan ran his new toy across the couch.

"Warrick, Nick, you guys go out to the junction by my place. See if you can find Vanessa Woods' car," Grissom ordered.

"We're on it," Warrick shrugged. He walked out the door behind Nick.

"Good. Greg, go talk to Brass. Tell him to put an APB on any bright green trucks that match Dylan's description," Grissom directed. Greg raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, he'll love that," Greg sighed. Grissom glared at him as the younger man walked out the door.

"Are you gonna stay here?" Dylan piped up, tugging at Grissom's sleeve.

"I…" Grissom hesitated, "Alright. I'll stay."

Catherine smiled at Dylan's wide grin.

"We'll go back to the scene," Catherine told him, gesturing between herself and Sara.

"Find anything you might have overlooked," he reminded them.

"Got it," Sara replied as she and Catherine left the room.

------------------------------------

"Alright, man, talk this thing out with me," Warrick requested as he drove himself and Nick towards the west side.

"Well, Grissom responded to a stabbing just a few blocks from his house," Nick started.

"Anywhere, anytime," Warrick muttered.

"The Vic is known to be associated with gangs," Nick continued.

"You think that this is gang related?" Warrick asked, looking over at his friend.

"Eyes on the road," Nick ordered as he felt the SUV shift slightly, "I wouldn't rule it out, but where does Dylan factor into something like that?"

"Father could be in a gang," Warrick suggested, "I talked to Brass. Woods never even told her boss who the father was."

"True, but Kenny G's DNA doesn't match Dylan's," Nick countered, "And even so, why would Woods put her son in a dumpster and tell him to be quiet if she was going to meet with Dylan's dad?"

"Maybe she talked to someone and found out that the father didn't want a kid to bring down his rep. Maybe she knew that if the guy found out he was a parent, he would do _anything_ to get out of it," Warrick speculated.

"Either way, the father is a prime suspect," Nick shrugged, "Hey! Take a look at that!" he exclaimed, pointing to a red car in the ditch. It almost looked like it was driven down there.

"You think it's her car?" Warrick asked as he eased to a stop on the side of the road. Nick pulled out a sheet of paper from his file.

"According to the DMV report, Woods drives a 2002 red Sun-fire," he read.

"Arizona plates," Warrick muttered as he got out of the vehicle and made his way to the car. Nick followed in suit, "There's a car-seat in the back."

"It's her car, man," Nick confirmed, matching the licence plate number.

"Check this out, Nick," Warrick called, motioning to the back bumper. Nick removed his sunglasses and stared down at the dent with specs of green paint.

"There was definitely another vehicle. I'll check for tire impressions on the road," Nick offered, starting up the slope.

"I'll take the car," Warrick agreed, "It still has the keys in the ignition," he observed, pulling his camera from his belt. He photographed the exterior of the car before he snapped a few photos through the windows. He got close-ups of any apparent damage from the crash before he noticed some footprints in the dirt. He snapped a picture and set to work with a cast to take the print. He guessed that the print belonged to a female, judging by the size. He envisioned what it must have looked like out here for Woods and Dylan. He could almost see Dylan crying in the backseat, only to be hurriedly un-strapped by his frantic mother. She would have took her son and started to run towards the closest building. Warrick could see the value mart parking lot where Kenny G's body and little Dylan were found. It was just across the grassy field, maybe a block away at the most. Warrick looked down and shook his head. He saw another print besides the shoe impression. It was a boot print. Warrick stiffened as he realized that that print could belong to their assailant.

"I got a couple of skid marks, but they are really thick. Someone was burning some serious rubber," Nick announced as he came up next to Warrick.

"They were chased," Warrick revealed, pointing to the prints, "Vanessa Woods ran from her car to that value mart."

"Those the assailant's prints?" Nick asked, gesturing to the boot print.

"Yeah," Warrick nodded grimly.

"What about those?" Nick asked, pointing to a larger print that looped back to the road..

"I was just about to print that," Warrick replied, "Could be just a casual observer or not."

"After you're done that, should we call a tow-truck to get the car back to the lab while we follow the prints?" Nick asked. Warrick smiled grimly.

"You read my mind, Nicky," he said, starting the casting process.

TBC


	6. A Suspicion

AN: I am done exams and I am writing up a storm!

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. If I did, there would be massive changes.

Summary: While processing a scene, the CSIs discover an entirely new case, a case that becomes more personal than any of them could ever have dreamed.

Chapter 6: 

A Suspicion

"Are you kidding me, Sanders?" Brass asked incredulously.

"Don't shoot me. I'm just the messenger," Greg shrugged, settling back into one of the cushy chairs in front of the detective's desk.

"There are over a million different green vehicles in Clark County. I can't nab anybody unless I have the make and model," Brass told him. Again, Greg shrugged.

"I told Griss that you wouldn't be happy about this," he said.

"This isn't an 'I-told-you-so' moment, Greg," Brass sighed, putting his hands to his temples. The phone started to ring and Brass wearily picked it up.

"Las Vegas P.D, Detective Jim Brass speaking," he answered.

"Detective Brass? My name is Colleen Bow. My supervisor told me that you needed some information about Vanessa," a female voice inquired.

"Yes," Brass replied, snapping out of his bemoaned state, "Have you been informed of the circumstances?"

"Yes," she replied, "Anything I can do to help Dylan and Van."

"Great," Brass said, "First off, what do you know about Dylan's father?"

"Very little. Van hardly told me a thing about him. When she got pregnant, she didn't tell me a thing. I thought it was the immaculate conception," she replied.

"But you knew better?" Brass prodded.

"Of course," she continued, "I assumed he was one of those dangerous, heartbreaker types. Every girl likes a rebel. When I asked her about it, she swore up and down that he was a good man. She said he was well-educated, very polite, and an all around nice guy."

"So why didn't she call up this 'Nice Guy' before now?" Brass asked.

"Pride," Bow answered, "She's always been fiercely independent and isn't one to burden others with her problems. She didn't want to burden the father. It wasn't just that. Apparently, he was 'geographically unavailable', whatever that means."

"She never told you a name?" he asked, feeling that headache come back.

"Just that he lives in Las Vegas. I don't know what else to tell you, Detective Brass."

---------------------------------

"Whatcha doin'?" Dylan asked as he watched Gil riffle through his filing cabinet.

"I'm looking for a file," Grissom answered. He felt like he was up to his elbows in loose papers.

"My mommy's papers are nice and clean," Dylan told him.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll bet she is pretty neat," Grissom sighed, catching the flicker of a memory in his mind of a strawberry blond woman carrying a neatly arranged folder of papers for her presentation. Then Grissom's hands found his notes from a conference, five-years-ago. He paled as he read the date and did the math in his head.

-----------------------------------

"Sara, what size of feet did Kenny G have?" Catherine asked, kneeling down to observe a dirty red boot print.

"Men's nine," Sara replied, coming up to look at the print.

"This is at least an ten," Catherine guessed, withdrawing her tape measure to confirm.

"Possibly the killer?" Sara asked.

"We shall see," Catherine sighed, snapping a quick picture of the print before taking a swab to it.

"Got something?" a low voice asked from behind the two women. Both jumped and whirled around to see Nick and Warrick standing there.

"Jesus Christ, you guys!" Sara exclaimed.

"Yeah! You scared the hell out of us!" Catherine scolded. Warrick and Nick grinned.

"What are you clowns even doing here in the first place?" Sara asked.

"For one, we resent that," Nick started.

"The Vic's car is just across the field. We retraced her steps and came here," Warrick answered.

"Well, what did you find?" Catherine asked, brushing a hair from her face.

"There was definitely a collision up there. Woods hit the ditch with a dent in her bumper and green paint on the fender," Nick stated, "Someone hit her."

"She was running through the field with Dylan. We think she was chased by someone wearing size ten boots," Warrick added, "We also found other prints up there, too."

"Like this?" Catherine asked, pointing to the bloody impression.

"Yeah. Sans the blood, though," Warrick observed.

"I think we hit pay dirt," Nick added.

"Why? Did you find something on the way from the car?" Sara asked.

"Someone fell in the grass and sand," Nick started, "There were impressions consistent with a fall. Better yet, the assailant may have cut himself on this shard of glass when he landed," he finished, holding up the sealed bag containing a bloodstained piece of glass that could have been from a beer bottle.

"Stroke of luck," Catherine breathed, examining the shard.

"Get it to DNA and see if we get a hit on CODIS," Sara said.

"Sure thing," Warrick shrugged, then looked at Catherine and Sara for a moment, "We couldn't trouble you guys for a lift back to our truck, could we?" he asked. Catherine and Sara laughed.

"I think you guys need to lose a few pounds, anyways," Catherine replied, turning to examine the dumpster as if there was no interruption. She noticed blood smears on boxes in the alley that she had failed to see the night before. She snapped pictures and collected them.

----------------------------------

"Thanks for the lift," Nick called down the hall with an indignant smirk on his face.

"Didn't enjoy the hike back?" Sara teased, stopping to allow him to catch up.

"Whatever," he shrugged, "I dropped off all of my evidence with the lab techs. You wanna help me and Catherine process the vehicle?" he asked.

"Sure. Three sets of eyes are better than two," she agreed. They made their way to the CSI garage where Catherine was already printing the car. Nick and Sara joined in, Nick processing the belongings in the trunk. Sara took the front and Catherine did the backseat. They work efficiently together until they were interrupted.

"Heard you found the car," Greg observed, leaning casually on the doorframe.

"Along with paint transfer," Nick told him.

"Goody. Now Brass can't chew my head off when I go to ask him to put out an APB," Greg said in a perky voice.

"Speaking of Brass," Catherine said, leaning on top of the car, "Did he ever touch base with Phoenix?" she asked.

"Yeah," Greg answered, "He talked to two of her coworkers. Both said that she had questionable taste in guys and they both have no idea who Dylan's father is, except that he lives here in Vegas."

"Why come searching for him now?" Sara pondered.

"She had breast cancer," Greg answered simply, "She wanted the little guy to be with his dad."

"And now he's here with us instead," Nick sighed grimly.

"Catherine, I need to talk to you, right away," Grissom called from behind Greg.

"Okay," she shrugged, "What's up?"

"My office, let's go," he almost ordered. It was then that Catherine clued into how agitated her friend was.

"Okay," she agreed, snapping off her gloves and motioning to Greg, "Take my place, Greg," she ordered softly as she walked out the door, leaving three very confused CSIs in her wake. She followed Grissom down the corridors towards his office. He shut the door after she walked in. She quickly glanced around the room and noticed Dylan was absent.

"What's going on, Gil? Where's Dylan?"

"He's with Wendy in DNA," he answered. They could see the little boy through the glass windows, his baby blue eyes shimmering with curiosity.

"So what's going on?" she asked. He sighed and rubbed his face.

"Catherine, I need your help. I trust you with this," he pleaded. This was the last thing she expected from him. He looked almost desperate.

"Of course, Gil," she said immediately, "Anything."

"Okay, five years ago, I was at a conference in Chicago. Vanessa Woods was a guest speaker. We got to talking and…we hit it off," he started.

"You knew her?" Catherine asked, incredulously. Gil Grissom knew a lot of people, but he rarely was seen with said people.

"Sort of. I haven't had contact with her for years," he answered, shifting his posture slightly.

"So what?" she asked, "So you knew her a few years ago. It's not like that's going to compromise the case," she assured him, but on noticing his hesitant glance, she added, "Is it?"

He bit his lower lip and continued, "It was a one night thing."

She gaped at him, "You slept with her?!" she yelped. He stared at her with a forlorn expression. She stared back at him in amazement which morphed into shock and confusion when she did the math in her head. She looked through the glass to where Wendy was showing the blue-eyed boy how to put on latex gloves. Gil followed her gaze and knew her train of thought.

"I did," he confirmed.

TBC


	7. A Tough Reality

AN: Here's the latest enstallment. Hope you enjoy it. I figured I might as well post something.

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. If I did, there would be massive changes.

Summary: While processing a scene, the CSIs discover an entirely new case, a case that becomes more personal than any of them could ever have dreamed.

Chapter 7:

A Tough Reality

Catherine was speechless as she stared up at her best friend. A part of her, the CSI who had been at the receiving end of all his reprimands, wanted to chide him for getting so involved in this case. The other part, the woman who would do anything for her friends, wanted to tell him that it would be okay.

"I-I don't believe this," she stammered, "Gil, you…"

"I know!" he responded, beginning to pace the room like a caged lion, "I-I screwed up, Cath. I-I don't know what to do."

She watched as he panicked and paced the room. She had never seen him like this. All logic, all Grissom-ness had seemed to leave his body. He was vulnerable.

"Could- could Dylan be…yours?" she asked hesitantly. He froze and looked at her. The look in his eyes confirmed his fears.

"The…the conference was about ten months before Dylan's birthday," he answered. He resumed his pacing, while she stared in disbelief.

"Gil, you have to get tested," she said after a moment, deciding that only one of them could freak out at a time. He stopped and stared at her. He seemed ready to break.

"D-Do you still have the swab you took from me before?" he asked shakily. She shook her head.

"I threw it out after we got Dylan to cooperate. I didn't think we'd need it," she admitted.

"You'll have to redo it, then," he told her, "I can't handle evidence."

Then it dawned on her, "You're a suspect," she breathed, refusing to believe that he was capable of something like that, "Gil, I know you wouldn't do that…"

"You have to let the evidence clear me, Catherine," he said. Oddly enough, this reassured her slightly. The old Gil was back. Then another thought flashed through her mind.

"You could lose your job," she voiced, "It's bad enough that you're a suspect, but if you were ever brought into custody, it's an automatic dismissal."

"We have to do our jobs," he choked out.

"I know that, Gil. Believe me, I do, but I'm not going to let you take the fall for Vanessa Woods' disappearance, especially when I know you're innocent. If Ecklie ever found out that you were our first real suspect on this case, he'd ruin you," she stated. He was truly touched by her sentiments, but he was still sceptical.

"We can't lie to the department, Catherine," he reminded her.

"They don't have to know anything until it's absolutely necessary," she said. He looked confused.

"What?"

"I could tell Wendy to test your sample with Dylan's, but leave out the fact that it is you. That way, if the test is negative, you don't lose face," she explained on a brainwave.

"And if it's positive?" he asked grimly.

"Then I have your back," she shrugged, giving him a small smile, which he returned. He thought for a moment. Then he turned to his kit and held out a sterile swab.

"Then you'd better do this," he said, handing the swab to her.

-------------------------------------

"Look, Cathin!" Dylan called to her as Catherine entered the DNA lab, "I'm a scitest!" he exclaimed, showing her his gloved hands. On that exclamation alone, she was ready to forgo the test and call the toddler Gil Grissom's son.

"And I'm sure you're going to be a good scientist," she humoured him. Dylan grinned.

"Come to join the fun, Catherine?" Wendy asked, motioning to the now exuberant little boy.

"I'd love to, but I need a favour," Catherine replied, holding out the swab.

"Goody. Who's bodily fluids am I testing now?" Wendy asked pleasantly.

"Someone who quite possibly shares Dylan's DNA," Catherine answered coyly. Wendy perked up.

"Who is it?" she asked.

"Just run it and tell only me if that matches seven of Dylan's alleles," Catherine replied, completely dodging the question as she exited the room. Wendy just stared in confusion at Catherine's retreating back.

---------------------------------

"Hodges, tell me you have something good," Greg asked as he and Nick stood in front of Hodges's computer.

"I've narrowed the car down from the paint chips," Hodges started, "Why someone would paint their truck lime green is beyond me. Personally, I'd go with a rustic red-"

"Hodges, the paint!" Nick reminded him.

"Right," Hodges glanced back at the screen, "The paint comes from a 2005 Ford F-150. If you look under the scope," he gestured to the microscope, "You'll see that it was originally painted white."

"What? White was too blah for the driver?" Greg asked, staring down the microscope where he could clearly see the paintjob.

"I also identified a stain Catherine found on Dylan's shirt. It's beer," Hodges added.

"We found a broken beer bottle in a field next to the scene," Nick affirmed, getting a mental picture in his mind. The assailant, beer bottle in hand, chases Vanessa, who is having trouble running with her four-year-old. Just before he reaches them, he trips, on account of the combination of the rough terrain and the beer. The drink splatters on Vanessa and Dylan before the bottle smashes in the suspect's hands.

"I'll get this stuff to Brass," Greg offered after a moment, "He'll want to know."

Nick nodded in response.

-----------------------------------

"Find anything out?" Catherine called to Sara and Warrick as the two younger CSI exited the layout room.

"Car didn't give us much," Sara replied, "But Warrick matched boot impressions to a size ten hiking boot. The running shoeprints belonged to Vanessa Woods."

"She didn't stand much of a chance," Warrick sighed, shaking his head.

"What about the other prints you found?" Catherine asked.

"Men's 12 street shoe," Warrick sighed.

"Guys!" Wendy called from the DNA lab, "I got a hit on the blood on the beer bottle."

"Who is it?" Catherine asked quickly.

"Davis Milton," Wendy replied, "He's in the system for an indecent exposure and a bar fight."

"Where's he from?" Warrick asked.

"Phoenix," Wendy replied, the three CSIs stared at her imploringly, to which she added, "I compared his blood to Dylan's sample. Not even close."

"Still a prime suspect," Warrick stated, turning on his heel.

-------------------------------------

"Does the name 'Davis Milton' ring a bell, Ms. Bow?" Brass asked into the receiver after just having been informed of their new suspect.

"Oh my God, yes!" she answered, "He was Van's last boyfriend. They broke up because Van wanted a father figure for Dylan. Davis was anything but. He had to be escorted out of PD Headquarters a month ago for causing a scene."

"And you didn't tell me this because…" Brass trailed off.

"It happened a month ago. I haven't seen nor heard about him since," she replied.

"Does he drive a lime green truck?" he asked.

"With a red snake on the side," she affirmed, "Is he a suspect?"

"A very good one," Brass replied, "Ms. Bow, I need for Phoenix PD to obtain a warrant and check out Milton's home. I want to know just what kind of man that he is."

"Absolutely," she agreed, "I'll talk to George."

"Thank you, Ms. Bow, but if you'll excuse me, I have an APB to put out."

"Let me know anything you find," she responded before the call was disconnected. Brass hung up his, then picked it up and dialled once more.

----------------------------------------

"How's kido doing?" Greg asked, poking his spiky head into Grissom's office.

"He's sleeping," Grissom whispered.

"Poor kid," Greg said, stepping inside the dimly lit room to where he could see Dylan curled up under Grissom's coat, "He's had a hell of a day."

"At least he's with us," Grissom sighed, staring at the sandy blond hair peaking out at the edge of the couch.

"Yeah," Greg agreed, "We have a suspect, you know."

"You do?" Grissom asked, interested in the young man's words.

"Davis Milton. He's from Phoenix. Owner of a lime green Ford with a red snake on the side," Greg informed his boss, "Dill was right on the money."

"He's a smart boy," Grissom agreed, still staring at the sleeping toddler. Greg looked at his boss for a moment, as if noticing something different. He brushed the feeling off and continued on his trek to the break room for a Twinkie.

-----------------------------

Officers West and Parker hopped back into their squad car, coffee in hand, and left the crowded café. It was getting pretty late in their shift. In about an hours time, both would be sitting at home instead of the dreary police car.

"Viva Las Vegas," West sighed, as he pulled off of the crowded strip and onto a side street. It would be much better for his sanity if he kept off of the crowded freeways for a the rest of the night.

"You have to love the crowds. If they weren't here, we'd be out of work," Parker said brightly. West smiled at the young cop's optimism. It's been a long time since West would say things like that. He'd seen too much.

"So true," he agreed, but his tone was not near as chipper as Parker's. Silence fell between the two until Parker's head snapped up.

"Isn't that the vehicle from the APB?" he asked, pointing to a green truck outside a warehouse. West slowed the car down.

"I think you're right," he confirmed, squinting at the vehicle before he grabbed his radio, "Control, we have a green truck out here," he said, beginning his message.

-----------------------------------------------

"He looks beat," Catherine commented from the doorway.

"Yeah. He fell asleep about an hour ago," Grissom replied, and then, in a lower voice, he asked, "Anything from Wendy, yet?" he asked.

"Nothing," she replied and sat in one of the chairs across from his desk.

"What am I going to do, Catherine? If it's positive?" he asked, breaking the silence that had fallen.

"It's not for me to decide, Gil," she replied sympathetically. He exhaled sharply.

"I-I can't raise a kid. I don't know the first thing about kids. What if-" he started to panic.

"You'll drive yourself crazy thinking about the 'what-ifs', Gil," she told him. She knew from experience. She was constantly worrying about the dangerous situations that Lindsey could get herself into. True, it was a parent's job to worry, but in the past, Catherine had literally made herself sick over thinking about what could have happened to her daughter, for example, if Lindsey had been picked up by a rapist/murderer when she had tried to hitch a ride to Fremont Street.

"But what if I'm not a good father?" he asked, confessing the fear that had curbed any desire to have a family in the past.

"You really need to give yourself a little more credit," she said, "You're more capable than you think."

He gave her a grateful smile. That was precisely why he had come to her for help. No matter how many ups and downs they had in their friendship, she was always on his side. The phone snapped them out of the silence. Grissom hurriedly answered it to ensure that it did not wake the sleeping child.

"Grissom," he said into the receiver.

"We found the truck," Brass's gruff voice announced. Grissom's head snapped to attention.

"Where?" he demanded.

"Outside a warehouse off of the strip," Brass answered. Grissom hurriedly wrote down the address and hung up the phone.

"What's going on?" Catherine asked.

"They found the truck," Grissom answered, starting for the door.

"I'm coming with you," Catherine announced, following him down the hall. He stopped at the break room and stuck his head inside.

"Greg, Sara, I need you two to keep an eye on Dylan for me," Grissom barked.

"Okay," Sara said, "What's going on?" she questioned, but she might as well have been talking to the door. He didn't even wait to hear her question.

"Did we miss something?" Greg asked, handing her a cup of coffee.

"I have no idea," Sara sighed, staring with a perplexed expression at the spot that her boyfriend had just vanished from.

---------------------------------------

"You guys head around back," Brass ordered as he got out of his Taurus and approached West and Parker's squad car.

"Will do," they replied, obediently running around the building, completely forgetting that their shift was long since over. Brass heard a door slam and looked behind him to see Catherine and Grissom walking up.

"What did we miss?" Grissom called.

"You're just in time," Brass responded, withdrawing his gun. No one noticed as a black car sped by the building when it saw the cop cars in front.

"Perfect," Catherine said, withdrawing hers as well. Grissom and Catherine followed Brass and two uniformed officers to the door, Grissom, the only unarmed one, taking up the rear. They leaned against the cool metal as Brass rapped on the door.

"LVPD! Open the door!" he shouted. There was no answer. He signalled for one of the officers to use the battering ram to gain entry. There was a loud bang as the door flew open. Brass, Catherine, and the other uniform cop entered first, their guns drawn. Grissom followed behind. The first room was clear. They kicked open another door and found the rest of the warehouse.

A man in his early thirties with dark hair and tattoos was lying unconscious on a tattered couch, drenched in blood, with a beer bottle clutched in his hand. A blood-covered knife was lying on the floor. On first glance, they thought he was dead, but Brass found a pulse on him when he checked. He could not find where the blood came from. There was no visible wounds on this man. When the officers attempted to rouse him, he opened an eye and slurred something. He was drunk. They got him standing and cuffed him.

Grissom, however, paid little attention to this man. His eyes were drawn to the only other body in the room. Her once vivid eyes were dead and empty as they stared up at him. Her strawberry blond hair was splayed on the ground around her. He felt his stomach churn as he saw the stab wounds along her chest and stomach. Her arms were lined with defensive wounds. She fought back. That was obvious from the beginning, though. She saved her son.

"Gil," Catherine whispered, coming up beside him and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He barely felt her touch. He just stared at the body of Vanessa Woods, feeling like a small part of him had died as well. Had they not been worlds apart, he could have cared about her, maybe even loved her. He couldn't speak.

He barely heard Catherine's phone ring.

"Willows," she answered. She listened for a moment and sighed, "Thank you, Wendy."

As if slowly coming back to earth, Grissom turned his head a fraction of an inch to look at Catherine, who stared back into his blue eyes.

TBC


	8. She Didn't Stand A Chance

AN: enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. If I did, there would be massive changes.

Summary: While processing a scene, the CSIs discover an entirely new case, a case that becomes more personal than any of them could ever have dreamed.

Chapter 8: 

She Didn't Stand A Chance

"We took the guy to detox and got his clothes," Brass told Catherine as they stood outside the Denali. Grissom was holed up in the passenger's seat, just staring blankly ahead.

"Good. I'll get Nick and Warrick out here to process," Catherine replied. Brass was hesitant.

"Is he going to be okay?" he asked, nodding to where Grissom sat, but could not hear.

"I don't know," she admitted, "He knew her, Jim."

"How?"

"They attended a conference together," she explained, "I should get him back to the lab."

"Yeah. I'll call you when I start the interview," Brass promised.

"Thanks," she said gratefully as she got in the driver's seat. She turned to look at her companion. She was worried about him. He was too quiet, even for him. He barely resisted when she had gently pulled him away from Vanessa Woods' body. He had complied soundlessly.

"Do you want to get a coffee?" she asked as she threw the car into gear.

"I'm good," he said thickly.

"Let's get a coffee," she suggested. He didn't protest.

--------------------------------

Colleen Bow and George Klein had no trouble obtaining a warrant to search Davis Milton's home. A quick call to Jim Brass was all they needed. Now they were standing in front of Milton's condo, which was hardly anything to brag about. Siding was coming off and there were boards over cracked windows. Why Vanessa even gave Milton the time of day was beyond Colleen.

She and George knocked on the door. There was no answer.

"Phoenix Police Department! Open the door!" George called. Still no answer. Finally George signalled for one of the uniformed officers to use the battering ram on the door. Colleen and George waited for the officers to clear the house before they entered.

The condo was cluttered with various magazines on what little furnishings Milton owned. Dishes were piled in the sink and papers and bills were displayed on the table. The whole placed reeked of boos. There was nothing probative in the kitchen or living room. Milton's bedroom, however, yielded much more substantial evidence.

"Colleen, come check this out!" George called her into the bedroom. She gasped at what she saw. An entire wall was papered with pictures of Vanessa and Milton, along with a few of Dylan. In front of the wall was an alter-like end-table with a single framed picture of the three of them together. It was photo-shopped. Vanessa was in a wedding dress, while Milton and Dylan were in suits.

George and Colleen just stared at each other with shocked expressions on their faces before she took out her phone and dialled Jim Brass's number.

---------------------------------

"So where did Grissom and Cath run off to anyways?" Nick asked as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

"They ran out of here so fast that we didn't get a chance to ask," Greg responded, "But, being that snooping around is what I'm paid to do, I called Sofia and she told me that Brass had responded to a report that the truck had been spotted."

"And Cath and Griss didn't even stop to tell you that?" Warrick asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Sara replied, a little putout, "Come to think of it, they've been acting weird all case."

"True," Greg agreed, "I know that they're tight and everything, but even this whole thing is weird for them. They haven't been joined at the hip for a long time."

"They're not joined at the hip," Sara responded, scowling.

"Figure of speech, my dear," Greg shrugged, "When was the last time they ran off together and didn't tell anybody else?"

"I agree with Greg," Nick spoke up, "Something's up. Remember when we were processing the car and Griss called Cath to his office? He almost ordered that she went with him."

"That's not even the weirdest thing," Greg countered, "I was talking to Hodges-"

"Reliable source," Nick chuckled.

"Shut up. Anyways, Hodges looked up from his work and through the blinds of Grissom's office, he saw him hand something to Catherine and then they moved into the back of his office where no one could see," Greg revealed.

"What was it?" Sara asked quickly.

"Hodges has no idea," Greg answered, "But I do know that Wendy was babysitting Dylan while they were in his office."

"Greg, you should get a raise," Nick quipped impressed, "Do you think that maybe they have a thing?" he asked. Sara shook her head in denial. Warrick's phone started ringing.

"Speak of the devils," he breathed as he looked at the call display, "Brown," he said flipping it open. There was a long pause until he said, "Sure. Where are you and Griss?" there was another pause, "He knew her?" Warrick ejected. There was another pause, "Yeah. We'll be right there," he sighed, hanging up the phone.

"What's the verdict?" Nick asked.

"They found Milton's truck in front of a warehouse. They found Vanessa Woods's body and a drunk, blood-soaked Milton inside. Nick and I have to go process," he explained.

"Why can't they?" Nick asked.

"Griss knew the vic from a conference," Warrick sighed, "Catherine says he's upset."

"He knew her?" Sara asked incredulously, breaking out of her silent state.

"Yeah," Warrick said, "We'd better get a move on. Coming Nick?"

"Right behind you," Nick sighed and followed his friend out the door.

"He knew her," Sara repeated, trying to think back in the years she had known Grissom.

"He knows a lot of people, Sara," Greg shrugged, but he saw that she was disturbed by it, "Look, that's probably what he and Catherine were talking about. She's co-supervisor so it makes sense that he'd talk to her about the case," he added. He felt better when she smiled.

"You're probably right, Greg. I'm sure that's all it was," she sighed. He nodded.

"I'm going to check on Dylan," he said, leaving the room to wander down the hall. He couldn't help but notice how Sara had gotten so worked up over any implication of Grissom and Catherine as a couple. And the fact that she felt like it should have been Grissom's number one priority to inform her that he knew Vanessa Woods. It was common knowledge around the lab that Sara had a little crush on their boss, knowledge that Greg pretended to ignore. Maybe this was proof to the rumours that were floating around the lab these days. Greg shrugged it off and opened the door to Grissom's office. He found the small boy sitting up on the couch and gazing around the room.

"Hey, buddy," Greg said softly, approaching the couch. Dylan started crying.

"No, no, no!" Greg cooed, picking up the small child, "Don't cry!"

"W-Want…M-mommy!" Dylan wailed. His cries nearly broke Greg's heart. Greg did the only thing that he could do and rocked the crying child.

----------------------------------------------------

"He has a shrine to her," Colleen Bow spat.

"What?" Brass asked.

"We went to his condo. He has an entire wall dedicated to Van and Dill. He even photo-shopped a wedding photo of the three of them!" she exclaimed angrily, "Have you tracked that piece of scum down yet?" she asked forcefully.

"We have Davis Milton in custody," Brass assured her through the phone.

"Where's Van? Is she alright?" Colleen Bow asked, worriedly on the other end. Brass paused.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Bow, but she didn't make it," he said as gently as he could. There was silence on the other end.

"W-what about Dylan? Is he safe?" she asked, almost frantically.

"He's still with my colleagues. He'll be alright," Brass said, "We're keeping Milton as far away from him as possible," he told her.

"Good," she sighed, relief washing over her.

"Once we find out who is going to gain custody of him, he'll go to that person," Brass told her. She exhaled slowly.

"That would be me," she admitted, "Before she wanted to track down the father, she asked if I'd be alright to raise Dylan if anything happened to her in the field."

"Would you be?" Brass asked.

"Detective Brass, I have two kids of my own. Of course I'll take Dylan if you can't track down the father."

"Right now, we haven't got a clue," Brass admitted.

"Alright. I'll make arrangements with a friend of mine, Linda Turner, to pick him up. Thank you for everything, Detective Brass."

--------------------------------------------------------

"She didn't even stand a chance," Nick sighed as he surveyed the messy warehouse with the body in it's current position.

"At least she saved her son from the same fate," Warrick replied, photographing a bloody knife and bagging it.

"Still doesn't sit right," Nick insisted, snapping a picture of the blood spatter on the floor and the wall, "This looks like arterial spray," he pointed out. Warrick looked up and nodded in agreement.

"Maybe that's why Milton was drenched in blood," he affirmed, "More beer bottles," he sighed, bagging three more bottles.

"Liquid courage," Nick muttered, "Probably wouldn't have had the nerve otherwise."

They worked in silence until Nick noticed something.

"'Rick, check out that void," he pointed to a blank space on the wall.

"Something or someone may have been there," Warrick noted. He and Nick exchanged dark looks before returning to their processing.

----------------------------------------------------

Sara had been sent to the morgue to assist David and the Doc in gathering evidence from Vanessa Woods's body. Greg was still trying to calm Dylan down, but it was not an easy task. He was in the process of finding chocolate when Sara left. She was glad to be doing something, even if it was a gruesome task.

David and Dr. Robbins greeted her as she entered the morgue and the three of them set to work. They worked methodically. Sara noted that Woods was definitely an attractive woman with strawberry blond hair and blue eyes and a slim figure.

The stab wounds that lined her torso varied in length. Some were shallow, but others penetrated deep into the skin. There was one, slick, left to right slice across her neck. If Sara was a gambler, she would have picked that slash as the COD. Bruises and other superficial cuts lined her body. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that she was a fighter. A sexual assault kit showed that Woods had escaped rape, which Sara was sure would set Grissom's mind to rest.

Sara collected detritus from her hair and clothes, swabbed a few stains on her clothes, and photographed every inch of the body, with David's help. All she could do was to hope that her findings would cement a case against Davis Milton.

----------------------------------------------------

Grissom was thankful for the cup of black coffee in front of him. It was bitter enough that he had to keep it together so he could focus on drinking the dark liquid. Catherine sipped her own drink across from him. They didn't speak. She knew that he would talk when he was ready. And she was right.

"You wouldn't have thought she was a scientist," he finally mumbled.

"Yeah?" she encouraged.

"Yeah. But she was really passionate about it when we started talking at the bar. We debated for at least three hours about everything we could think of," he reminisced, smiling. Catherine smiled too. It was easy to see why this woman had captivated her friend.

"She sounds lovely," she told him.

"She thinks that politics are a necessary evil, like you do," he said, grinning brighter still.

"And you think that they're just plain evil," Catherine countered, to which he chuckled.

"Yeah. She teased me about that too," he murmured, looking to his hands. She reached out and placed her slender fingers on his wrist. He smiled up at her, which she returned. They stayed like this for several minutes until her phone vibrated.

"Willows," she answered. She listened for a moment, "Okay. We'll be there shortly."

"Brass?" Grissom asked.

"He wants to get the interrogation underway. He's satisfied that Milton has sobered up enough," She explained.

"I want to watch," Grissom requested. She nodded.

TBC


	9. Milton's Obsession

AN: I like delay. It causes suspense...I don't mind suspense.

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. If I did, there would be massive changes.

Summary: While processing a scene, the CSIs discover an entirely new case, a case that becomes more personal than any of them could ever have dreamed.

Chapter 9: 

Milton's Obsession

Grissom stood behind the glass window and stared into the interrogation room where Catherine and Brass sat across from a dazed Davis Milton.

"You know Vanessa Woods, don't you, Davis?" Brass asked.

"She's dead," Milton said thickly. Brass shook his head.

"You killed her," he said bluntly.

"She killed me," Milton mumbled.

"Really?" Brass asked, "Is that why she's on an autopsy table in the morgue right now and you're sitting here?"

"You don't understand," Milton glowered across the table at Brass.

"Then make me understand. What did she do that was so bad that you had to kill her for it?" Brass countered.

"I didn't kill her," Milton said automatically.

"Than who did?" Brass asked dangerously, "You were passed out right next to her body!"

Milton remained quiet and glared at Catherine and Brass. Brass glared back.

"Mr. Milton, what is your shoe size?" Catherine asked, filling the deathly silence that had fallen over the interrogation room.

"Ten," Milton ejected, looking Catherine up and down, "What's it to you?"

"You shoe size could clear you," she shrugged.

"Cops took 'em," Milton said, glaring at Brass.

"Mr. Milton, I have a warrant for your hand print," Catherine continued, showing him the piece of paper.

"Whatever," he shrugged, crossing his arms.

"You might want to cooperate," Brass warned him, "Otherwise we can make you cooperate."

Milton grudgingly held out a hand. Catherine set to work and traced the outline of his hand onto a piece of blank paper. When she lifted his hand up, she noticed that blood had dribbled onto the paper from a cut on his hand.

"So what did Vanessa Woods do to set you off?" Brass asked while Catherine used a ruler to measure the print on the paper. Milton didn't answer.

"Okay," Brass sighed, "Let's start again. What was your relationship with Ms. Woods?"

"She was my everything," Milton mumbled.

"Really? I heard that the two of you broke it off a month or so ago," Brass commented.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Milton growled.

"Heard that you weren't a good father figure for her son," Brass continued. Milton slammed his hands on the table.

"She left me! She made a mistake! I'm that kid's father! I took care of him when she was doing who knows what! She had the balls to tell me I wasn't! She wouldn't let me see him!" he shouted, alarming Catherine and Brass.

"You're not his father," Brass said quietly.

"I am!" Milton screamed, "Fuck you!"

"We compared your DNA to Dylan's, Mr. Milton," Catherine spoke up, "You are not his father."

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Milton cried, rising to his feet. Catherine leaned away instinctively. Two officers came forward and sat Milton back down.

"He's my kid! Where is he?" Milton was still shouting.

"He's safe," Catherine responded. Milton quieted.

"Can I see him?" he asked softly.

"Not a chance," Catherine snapped at him, grabbing her belongings and leaving a shouting man in her wake. She rounded the corner and ran right into Grissom's hard chest.

"Well?" he asked. She shook her head.

"His hand span is only 21 cm. He didn't hold down Gates. We're just waiting on the lab results on the rest of the evidence," she told him. He nodded but didn't say a word. Instead he looked fixedly on the door to the interrogation room. Catherine noticed this.

"Let's go back into the viewing room," she ordered, pushing him back into the windowed room.

"Brass said he was obsessed with her," Grissom said softly.

"Evidence is good against him, Gil," she said.

"I hope so," he mumbled. Then the two of them watched as the cops finally calmed Milton down.

"Davis, why were you in Vegas?" Brass asked. Milton remained silent.

"Davis, what were you doing in Vegas?" Brass asked a little louder. Milton went into a dazed state.

"She's beautiful, you know," he said.

"Were you following her?" Brass asked.

"I never stopped loving her," Milton sighed. Grissom swallowed a lump in his throat as an image of Vanessa Woods forced its way into his mind.

"Did you abduct her?" Brass asked.

"Chased her," Milton mumbled. Grissom looked through the window with rapt attention, as if the glass reflected the chase to him like a television screen.

"You chased her?" Brass asked dangerously.

"I loved her," Milton shrugged. Grissom saw an image of Vanessa, holding her son close to her, shielding him from harm.

"Did you? Then why did you kill her?" Brass growled. Then, the glass reflected Vanessa, standing tall. Grissom felt as though he could have reached out and touched. Suddenly, there was a slash and a bloody knife sliced through his illusions, killing them from his mind.

"I want a lawyer," Milton said, coming back to earth. Brass shrugged. Grissom had to get out of there. He wrenched open the doors to the hall and walked quickly through the people, leaving a stunned Catherine staring after him.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Doc Robbins was just stitching up the Y-incision on Vanessa Woods's body when he heard the heavy metal door to the morgue open. He looked up and saw Grissom standing there, as pale as a ghost. He stared at the body on the slab.

"Gil, are you going to be alright?" Robbins asked gently, "I know you knew her."

"Just tell me what you know, Al," he requested in a soft voice.

"Gil, I don't know-"

"Please," Grissom pleaded. There was something in his voice that made the Doctor give in.

"What do you want to know?" he asked.

"How'd she die?" Grissom asked, his eyes never leaving the body.

"Her Carotid Artery was slashed. She bled out," Robbins answered.

"Stab wounds?" Grissom inquired.

"She was stabbed in the side, non-fatally at first. That probably accounted for all of her blood at the scene," Robbins answered, "Then she was stabbed several more times post mortem."

"Was…was she…" Grissom struggled, "Sexual assault?" he finally got out.

"No. No signs of trauma at all," Robbins assured him. Grissom nodded thankfully.

"Anything else?" he asked.

"Just some defensive wounds. We got some skin from under her fingernails. It's off in DNA. She was a fighter, Gil," Robbins said. Grissom nodded. He didn't move. He just continued to stare at the body.

"I know that you must have cared about her, Gil, but this isn't the place to find closure for her death," Robbins told him. Gil shut his eyes and nodded.

"Thank you, Al," he mumbled, and then he turned around and exited the morgue the same way he entered.

-------------------------------------

"Well guys?" Catherine asked as she peered into the DNA lab at Nick, Warrick, and Wendy.

"We're just waiting for results," Warrick told her, "Where's Griss?"

"He needed to be alone," Catherine replied. The machine beeped and printed off several sheets for Wendy.

"Well?" Nick asked. Wendy scanned the paper and read.

"Blood on Milton's clothes was Vanessa Woods."

"Did he stab her?" Catherine prompted.

"There was a mixture of Milton's blood with Woods on the knife," Wendy continued, "But there is no evidence of Kendal Gates on the knife. Usually there is at least some of the past victims on the knife."

"Maybe Kendal Gates was killed by someone totally unrelated to the case," Nick suggested.

"It's possible, but Gates would have had to have been killed after Vanessa was stabbed. He stepped in her blood," Catherine said, "What about the samples Sara took from under the victim's fingernails?"

"It contains Milton's DNA," Wendy confirmed.

"We've got him," Catherine sighed, "Milton was obsessed with Vanessa and Dylan. He was so convinced that they belonged together that he followed her to Vegas. He must have had a couple of drinks. He crashed into her, sending her into the ditch. Vanessa, recognizing Milton's truck, grabbed her son and ran across the field towards the nearest lights."

"Milton's stumbling around," Warrick continued, "slightly intoxicated and falls, spraying Vanessa and Dylan with alcohol. The bottle in his hand breaks, giving him a rather painful injury."

"That irritates him even more," Nick added, "He gets up and runs after Vanessa and Dylan. Vanessa, realizing the threat behind her, quickly puts Dylan in the dumpster, covers him with garbage, and tells him to stay quiet. Milton catches up to them and stabs her with his knife. She bleeds all over the street."

"But why wouldn't he just look for Dylan?" Wendy asked. The three CSIs thought this through before a solution came to them.

"Gates," Warrick murmured.

"There were blood smears on boxes in the alley!" Catherine exclaimed, "Milton was looking for Dylan when he was interrupted by Gates and possibly, Gates's killer."

"So Milton just decided to take Vanessa and go," Nick finished.

"He did it," Catherine confirmed.

"Start without me?" Sara asked from the doorway.

"What do you have?" Catherine asked, motioning to the file in Sara's hands.

"Paint on Milton's truck matches Vanessa Woods's car. There was blood in the back of his truck. Wendy, it's all yours," Sara said, passing her the sample.

"Once all of the evidence is processed, call Brass and tell him to make the arrest," Catherine told them as she exited the lab. She had something important to attend to. She had to give someone some closure.

TBC

AN: I need an opinion. I was originally going to do this fic in three different stories. One for Dylan's case, another on for part 2 of Dylan's Story, and another fic for part 3. But I've had my doubts about that. So, I'm leaving it up to my reviewers to decide. Should I do my CSI: A Special Case  as three separate fics for each section of the whole story, or should I just continue on and write all three parts here in one fic? I'm being democratic here, so review to cast your votes. Thank you in advance.


	10. The Revelation

AN: Everything comes to light, so far anyways.

Disclaimer: I do not own CSI. If I did, there would be massive changes.

Summary: While processing a scene, the CSIs discover an entirely new case, a case that becomes more personal than any of them could ever have dreamed.

Chapter 10: 

The Revelation

Catherine found him leaning against his Denali, staring at nothing in particular. He looked so lost, so alone.

"Gil?" she said softly as she approached him. He looked up in recognition.

"Hey," he mumbled, meeting her in the eyes.

"I have good news," she started.

"Milton did it," he stated. It was not a question, but a fact.

"So far all of the evidence points in his direction," she confirmed. He nodded, and Catherine swore that she saw the ghost of a smile.

"Good," he said, looking back at his feet. She gave him a moment's silence before she felt she had to say something.

"I know that it hurts, Gil," she stated. His head snapped up so that he could look her in the eye. Anyone else, and he would have walked away from them, but the truth was, Catherine did understand what he was going through. She had lost her ex-husband, a man that she once loved, almost four years ago. She knew much better than he did of the feelings he was not used to feeling.

"A little bit," he acknowledged, and then after a moment, he said, "It's strange. I hardly even knew her, but I feel…" he trailed off.

"Like you could have cared about her?" she finished.

"Yeah, but mostly, I…I feel…responsible," he admitted, looking at the ground again.

"It's not your fault," Catherine immediately told him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He didn't look at her.

"She was coming to see me," he mumbled thickly.

"Because she had cancer and wanted someone that she could count on to take care of Dylan," Catherine countered, "She knew that she could count on you, and she was right."

"How do you figure?" he asked, looking at her once more.

"Because I know you and I know that you will do what's best for that little boy," she explained. There was nothing but sincerity in her eyes as she said these words, and that alone, made him feel one-hundred percent better.

---------------------------------------------

"When all you've got to keep is strong, move along, move along, like I know you do," Greg sang, "And even when your hope is gone, move along, move along, just to make it through."

Dylan was sitting on Greg's lap, listening as his new babysitter sang to him. He didn't know the song, but he liked the way that Greg sang it.

"All American Rejects?" Sara questioned from the doorway. Both Greg and Dylan looked up to find Sara, Nick, and Warrick assembled there.

"It's inspirational," Greg shrugged.

"How that little guy can stand your singing is beyond me," Nick commented, moving to grab his lunch from the fridge.

"Hey!" Greg protested, "He likes it, don't you, Dill?"

"Yeah," Dylan said softly and nodded. He buried his head closer to Greg's chest.

"Crazy kid," Nick muttered, placing his burrito in the microwave.

"You playing shy again, pal?" Warrick asked, sitting beside Greg and Dylan. Dylan shook his head.

"He's a little wore out. Misses his mom," Greg explained. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at him. While Greg meant well, he had a tendency to say the wrong thing at the wrong time.

"Greg, you didn't tell him what happened, did you?" Sara asked.

"Of course not," Greg said, "I just told him that we were supposed to watch him."

"Good," Warrick breathed. Just then, there was a knock on the door. They looked up and saw a woman in her mid to late thirties standing there.

"Hello," Nick greeted from his position at the microwave, "Can we help you?"

"I'm sorry to interrupt," she started, "But I'm Linda Turner. I'm a social worker. I'm here to pick up Dylan Woods and drive him to Phoenix to be with a friend of his mother's," she explained, stepping forwards to shake Warrick's outstretched hand.

"I'm Warrick Brown. You'll have to pardon me, Ms. Turner, but I have no knowledge that Dylan is supposed to go anywhere," he told her.

"Detective Brass spoke to Colleen Bow about the matter," she explained.

"I'm going to just give him a call," Warrick said, stepping out of the room.

"Just don't want to get in trouble," Nick shrugged, vouching for his friend.

"It's understandable. We all just want to ensure that the child is safe," Ms. Turner said. She remained planted where she had walked in, and had crossed her arms over her chest. She reminded Greg of a strict schoolteacher he had had when he was younger. He instinctively held Dylan a little closer. Nick and Sara stayed silent as well. Nick had retrieved his food and set it on the counter, but hadn't eaten anything. Sara was sitting at the table staring at her hands. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of awkward silence, Warrick reappeared.

"I spoke to Brass," he announced, "Dylan is supposed to go with Ms. Turner and she will drive him to Phoenix," he explained.

"Well, I guess that's it then," Greg sighed, standing up with Dylan in his arms, "Should we wait for Griss and Catherine?" he asked.

"I want to get on the road before dark," Ms. Turner prompted.

"Alright, then," Nick shrugged, "I guess this is it, Dylan," he said, coming up beside Greg to say goodbye to the toddler.

"What's goin' on?" Dylan asked, worriedly.

"You're gonna go with this nice lady and she'll take you to see a friend of your mom's," Warrick explained.

"No!" Dylan protested, latching onto Greg tighter.

"Come on, Dill, let go, now," Greg gently tried to pry the child from his neck.

"No!" Dylan fought back, "I don't wanna go!"

"Here," Ms. Turner said impatiently, stepping up to Greg and helping him get Dylan under control. Soon, the little boy was screaming in the social worker's arms.

"NO!" he cried.

"It'll be okay, Dylan," Sara whispered.

"NO!"

"Quit that, now, Dylan," Ms. Turner ordered firmly. Arms flailing, Dylan still cried out.

"NO! NO! NO!" he screamed.

"What's going on here?" everyone in the room turned to the doorway of the break room to find Grissom and Catherine standing there.

"What's going on?" Grissom asked again, his eyes focused on the screaming child.

"I'm Linda Turner," she started.

"She's here to take Dylan back to Phoenix. We called Brass to confirm," Warrick explained. Grissom looked stunned for a moment. He hadn't been expecting something like this. Thankfully, Catherine stepped up.

"Where is he to live in Phoenix?" she asked.

"Colleen Bow, a friend of Ms. Woods, has volunteered to raise him," Ms. Turner said as she tried to control the little boy.

"No," Grissom spoke up after a moment. Everyone stared at him.

"Excuse me, sir?" Ms. Turner asked, eyeing him.

"He's not going to Phoenix," Grissom said with more conviction. Nick, Sara, Warrick, and Greg gapped at him. Ms. Turner glared at him. Catherine grinned.

"Who are you to decide that? Arrangements have been made-"

"I'm his father," Grissom stated, not looking at her, but staring evenly at the little boy in her arms.

"WHAT?" four voices echoed.

"If anyone is going to raise my son, it's going to be me," Grissom said firmly, ignoring his stunned colleagues.

"W-What proof do you have of this?" Ms. Turner faltered.

"I tested my DNA against Dylan's. I'm his father," he said, "If you want, I can give another sample of my DNA to show that I am Dylan's father."

"Please do," Ms. Turner requested.

"Fine," he responded, "Catherine?" he asked.

"I'll go get a swab from Wendy," she offered, still smiling at him as she left. Grissom looked to his colleagues and saw their stunned looks. Greg's eyes were as big as saucers. Nick's jaw was practically hitting the floor. Warrick was looking as if he were seeing his boss for the first time. Sara was looking at him in hurt and confusion. He'd have some explaining to do later.

"Don't wanna go!" Dylan carried on, struggling against the social worker.

"You aren't going anywhere Dylan," Grissom assured him.

"Gil!" Dylan called, holding his arms out to Grissom. Grissom exhaled and then stepped up to Ms. Turner.

"Perhaps he would calm down if I held him," he suggested, picking Dylan out of her arms. Dylan was much happier in Grissom's now familiar hold. Soon, the little boy was subdued in his father's arms. Catherine returned to find father and son together.

"You know the drill, Gil," she said. He nodded and opened his mouth, so that she could swab it.

"Thanks, Cath," he mumbled after she finished. She smiled at him.

"I'll get this back to Wendy," Catherine offered. She exited the room, while Gil crossed it so that he and Dylan could sit on the couch.

"I'm going to call Detective Brass," Ms. Turner said as she moved to the hallway.

"Alright, what the heck is going on here?" Warrick asked as soon as the social worker left the room.

"Explain, Boss," Nick requested, totally forgetting his burrito.

"Okay," Grissom breathed, somewhat nervously, "Five years ago, I met Vanessa Woods at a conference. We got to talking and we had a one night thing," he explained.

"And conceived Junior, apparently!" Greg exclaimed.

"Griss, do we need to give you "the talk"?" Nick asked, causing Grissom to roll his eyes.

"Ya know, I agree with Nick," Warrick said, "You ALWAYS use safe-sex in a one night stand."

"And sometimes you do everything right, and you still get a surprise five years later," Grissom said hotly, defending himself.

"How long have you known about this?" Sara asked, finally mustering up the nerve. He stared into her accusing eyes and answered her question.

"I suspected it ever since I found out who Dylan's mother was," he admitted, "I got Catherine to take a sample of my DNA for comparison."

"You and her both knew and you didn't tell us?" Sara then questioned, feeling more and more incensed.

"It's not like we had much of a choice," he sighed. Sara bit back her lower lip. He felt guilty somehow.

"When he suspected that he was Dylan's father, we didn't have Milton as a suspect," Catherine added from the doorway, "I convinced him not to say anything until we knew for sure. He could have lost his job, otherwise."

"You were looking out for him?" Nick asked.

"Somebody has to," she shrugged.

------------------------------------------------

No one said a word for a really long time. Even Dylan was rather subdued when Brass walked in.

"Gil, can I talk to you?" he asked from the doorway. Ms. Turner looked rather smug as he stood there. Grissom nodded and gently placed Dylan on the couch, where the little boy immediately crawled over Greg so that he was in between the spiky-haired man and Catherine. He knew that Greg and Catherine wouldn't let that mean lady take him anywhere.

"What do you need, Jim?" Grissom asked as he and Brass moved into the hall.

"Ms. Turner told me over the phone that you said that you were Dylan's father," Brass said, and when he received no response, he added, "Are you?"

"Yes, I am," Grissom responded.

"Hell of a bomb to drop, there, Gil," Brass whistled.

"I can relate," Grissom admitted. Brass looked a little closer at his friend. He looked tired.

"Are you going to be okay?" he asked.

"I'll be fine," Grissom assured him.

"Are you sure?" Brass questioned, "You're going from bachelor to single-dad."

"I'll deal with it. It's what Vanessa would have wanted," Grissom said, looking down as he said her name. Brass smiled sympathetically.

"If you need anything, give me a call," Brass told him. Grissom smiled and then Brass grinned and asked, "Do you think I could get my badge back?"

--------------------------------------------------

It did not take long for Wendy to process the samples from Grissom and Dylan. After an hour and a half of sitting awkwardly in the break room, everyone, including Brass and Ms. Turner, looked up at Wendy.

"Is he the boy's father?" Ms. Turner asked, pointing to Grissom, who was sitting on the couch with Dylan resting contently in his arms. Wendy stared awkwardly at her boss for a moment before she answered.

"Mr. Grissom is Dylan's biological father."

"And you are going to raise him?" Ms. Turner asked Gil, not missing a beat.

"Absolutely," Grissom answered without hesitation. Every time that he said that he was going to raise Dylan, he felt more and more at ease doing it.

"Alright then, I am going to need to make sure that your home is suitable for a child," she announced.

"Okay," Grissom shrugged.

"A week from now, I will be visiting your home, Mr. Grissom, to ensure that it is safe for Dylan," she continued. He gazed up at her and grinned angelically.

"I'll be looking forward to it," he replied. Then she left.

"Finally!" Nick exclaimed, diving into his cold burrito. He had not felt comfortable eating while that Turner lady was in the room.

"Don't choke, Nicky," Catherine warned, grinning amusedly at her friend.

"So what are you going to do now, Griss?" Warrick asked, standing up to stretch his legs.

"I don't know," he admitted, "I barely know where to start."

"Go shopping," Catherine advised, "You want to start by making a home for Dylan. The best way is to get him some stuff that he's familiar with."

"You're right," Grissom replied, "I'm going to need to get Dylan clothes and toys and everything. Could you watch him while I get my coat?" he asked, gesturing to his son, who was busy showing Greg his truck.

"Sure," Warrick grinned, "Its probably easier than watching Greg."

Grissom grinned and left the room.

"I'll be back," Sara told them as she followed him down the hall. Warrick and Nick looked confused, while Catherine and Greg looked on knowingly.

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"Quite the shock," Sara commented as she leaned on the doorframe to his office, surprising Grissom slightly.

"I know," was all he said. He did not meet her eyes.

"You could have told me," Sara accused, "Or…or…at least clued me in."

"Why is it such a big deal?" he asked, a little confused, as he took a step towards her.

"You don't trust me," she said, pursing her lips. He shook his head.

"You know I do," he contradicted her. She raised her eyebrows.

"Right. It shows," she said scathingly, "Have a good day. I'm going home. Gotta check the mail at the apartment," she told him. She left the room, leaving him staring fixedly on the spot where she had stood. Even he understood her meaning.

He left his office and locked the door. He made his way back to the break room to where he could see Warrick, Greg, and Nick talking animatedly to Dylan.

"Ready to go, Dylan?" Grissom called as he entered the room. Dylan looked up at his father.

"Where are we goin', Gil?" he asked. Grissom smiled bitterly. This was going to take some getting used to.

"We're going shopping," he answered, holding out a hand, "Should we go?" he asked. Dylan nodded.

"Bye-Bye," he waved to Catherine and the guys as he bounded over and clutched Grissom's hand.

"See you later, kido," Greg waved back, smiling.

"If you need anything, Gil, just call," Catherine told him, "Linds is at school all day."

"Thanks," he responded as he lead Dylan out.

"Some day," Nick commented.

"You said it, Nicky," Warrick agreed as they watched their boss leave with his new son.

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"Detective Brass, I didn't expect to hear back from you so soon," Colleen Bow said into the receiver.

"We actually managed to track down Dylan's biological father," Brass announced, "I just thought that you should know, Ms. Bow."

"You found him? Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes. We tested his DNA twice," Brass answered.

"Who is he? What is he like?" she questioned, concerned for Dylan's wellbeing.

"He's one of our own CSIs," Brass told her, sighing, "His name is Gil Grissom. Apparently he and Ms. Woods met at a conference a long time ago. He was one of the CSIs that found Dylan in the dumpster."

"And he can take care Dylan? Dylan will okay with him?" she continued to quiz Brass.

"I can assure you that Gil will do whatever it takes to take care of that little boy," he responded in defense of his friend, "He's willing to do whatever it takes to care for his son."

"I'd like to meet him," Ms. Bow requested. She did not sound as if she wanted to see if Grissom was suitable to raise a child. She sounded like she genuinely wanted to meet the father of her best friend's child.

"It could be arranged," Brass told her. She sighed heavily.

"Do you think it would be possible for him to come to Phoenix with Dylan for the funeral? I think it would be appropriate," she asked. Brass, knowing Grissom's reluctance to take time off, smiled.

"He'll be there," he responded, figuring that Gil needed to be there and that he also had to learn to hit the clock-out button, now more than ever. For Dylan.

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"From now on, it's just going to be you and me, Dylan," Grissom said gently as he and his son walked hand and hand down the mall.

"What about Mommy?" the little boy questioned. Grissom hesitated before he sat himself and Dylan down on the nearest bench.

"Dylan, Mommy…is up in heaven," he started, using the same reasoning that his mother had tried to use when she had been trying to explain to him what had happened to his father. Of course, at nine, he knew that meant that his father had died. Dylan, however, was much too young to understand that. Gil wanted his son to retain that innocence as long as he could.

"Is that far away?" Dylan asked. Gil hesitated again.

"Yes," he answered.

"Will I see her?" Dylan asked worriedly. Gil shut his eyes to think.

"We…we can't see her…but she can see us," he tried, "She's watching over us."

"But I miss her," Dylan protested.

"I know," Gil comforted, "but even though she's not here to take care of you, I am," he told the little boy, "I'm your daddy."

"Daddy?" Dylan asked, curiosity momentarily winning over grief.

"A daddy is like a mommy, only he's a boy," Gil explained.

"Do daddies play?" Dylan quizzed. Gil chuckled.

"They'll try," he answered, still grinning. Dylan's little brow furrowed in thought as he concocted his next question.

"Do they love you like Mommy?"

"Yes, they do," Gil answered immediately.

"You're my daddy?" Dylan tried to comprehend.

"Yes. That's right, Dylan," Gil replied.

"So you love me like Mommy?" Dylan questioned once more.

"Yes, I do, Dylan," Gil assured him. Dylan smiled and asked one more question.

"Do daddies give hugs?"

"Yes, Dylan. They do," Gil replied. He was a little stunned when Dylan latched onto his neck, but relaxed and patted his son on the back as he hugged him back. The passers-by who noticed this display of affection between father and son, smiled and continued on their way.

One man, however, did a double take, then hurried on his way. From his pocket, he took out the photograph that his friend had given him and stared at it. A strawberry-blond woman was holding a small boy in her lap, the same small boy who was on the bench, hugging his father.

The man walked away with purpose glimmering in his cold, grey eyes.

TBC

Reviews? Please? I would like some feedback.


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